I can remember a thousand winged bullets. The strike of something inevitably deadly. Like the ghost of a dead ship just 30 feet beneath the surface of the lake that asks you to come closer only to swallow you whole. But you dont turn back. I didnt anyways. One of the many things in my life that turned me into something of a stone. Medusas mile long hair sitting on the piano bench holding my heart without concern. She should have sent me to the grave before I found out I was dead. Maybe then I wouldnt hate her the way I do now. In secret, I mean. I wouldnt have the heart to say I no longer respect me her, I mean. No longer respect her. Love of the cupids bow. Thats the grace I had impaled in my chest then. The arrow went clean through, deep enough to throw a girl through. some even dared to jump on their own.
Something azure, the taste of another too soft on the car seat under the tower hilton and a hundred rushing who knows whats going who knows where. The day I spent in a vice. Probably the surmounting billions of flowers come and gone in the past that granted me the access to my own tomb. It was something pretty then but uglier than my black heart under the surface. The twin faces of the prettiest monster to rove this hideous wasteland. Twin if there werent more than just two in the deck of lies. I miss ignorance.
And beyond all this burnt absence and excuses abundant I narrow the gates without my knowledge and illuminate something invisible for a single star to see. Once upon a time. Who would have guessed the ruins to be worth something to someone. They always are for some reason. It takes decimation for people to see the value in something that took lifetimes to build, ignored or ridiculed in its prime. Hideous reality isnt it. But none the less I appreciate the fact that somewhere, someone stopped long enough to see the meaning behind the painting. Its always that one that you have the most trouble with. Both parties knew decimation in their primes. Both were adored when they died. Thats why theyre both so beautiful when their bodies build the grass now. Something azure. Something like this once, but without the faces of the faceless. I believe its something I like now. Now that its been decimated.
Something azure, the taste of another too soft on the car seat under the tower hilton and a hundred rushing who knows whats going who knows where. The day I spent in a vice. Probably the surmounting billions of flowers come and gone in the past that granted me the access to my own tomb. It was something pretty then but uglier than my black heart under the surface. The twin faces of the prettiest monster to rove this hideous wasteland. Twin if there werent more than just two in the deck of lies. I miss ignorance.
And beyond all this burnt absence and excuses abundant I narrow the gates without my knowledge and illuminate something invisible for a single star to see. Once upon a time. Who would have guessed the ruins to be worth something to someone. They always are for some reason. It takes decimation for people to see the value in something that took lifetimes to build, ignored or ridiculed in its prime. Hideous reality isnt it. But none the less I appreciate the fact that somewhere, someone stopped long enough to see the meaning behind the painting. Its always that one that you have the most trouble with. Both parties knew decimation in their primes. Both were adored when they died. Thats why theyre both so beautiful when their bodies build the grass now. Something azure. Something like this once, but without the faces of the faceless. I believe its something I like now. Now that its been decimated.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
boxterjulep:
you know what? fuhgetaboutit.
joscelyne:
There was a stray kitty walking around in front of my work today. I was calling to it but before it could walk to me the security guard shooed it away
I wanted to take it home.
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